


That's What You Think, Captain Cocky

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Internet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:25:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Bellamy hadn't been drunk, he probably wouldn't have sent a naked picture to some random blog for critique. But he did, and apparently he's bad at taking naked pictures. Which obviously means he has to keep taking naked pictures until the blogger recognizes how hot he is.</p>
<p>Obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's What You Think, Captain Cocky

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the (very NSFW) website [Critique My Dick Pic](http://critiquemydickpic.tumblr.com/), which is both exactly what it sounds like and really awesome.

It's a terrible idea, and he knows it.

He finds out about the website from Raven, when she's ranting about the grad student she's still refusing to call her boyfriend who apparently does not know how to sext.

"Is that really a necessary skill now?" he asks, absent, sipping his coffee. "Sexting?"

"God, I bet you're not even on Tinder."

"I just get laid in, you know, analog," he says. "So what are you sending him?"

"It's a blog where guys submit dick pics and this art student tells them how they can do better. Like, she knows all about composition and lighting and everything, it's awesome."

"Jesus. How hard can it be?" he asks, and groans when Raven grins at him. "You know what I mean, shut up. Why would you need to compose a dick pic? It's your dick. You take a picture. It seems really straightforward."

"Fine, I'll send you the website too," she says. "For your edification."

"You know I don't actually want to spend my afternoon looking at a bunch of dicks, right? I don't even get the whole phenomenon."

"Seriously, a well-composed dick pic can be a turn-on. Just because you don't think dicks are hot doesn't mean no one does." She pauses. "Okay, the unsolicited ones are universally garbage, but, you know. As part of an existing courtship, it's fine. Check out the site. It's cool, you'll like it."

He doesn't see the email until he gets home from hanging out with Miller and Murphy at the bar, and he's slightly tipsy. He scrolls through the first few pages and kind of likes it. The dicks themselves don't do anything for him, but he likes the blogger's comments, her critiques and compliments. She's got a good sense of humor and seems to genuinely want to improve the overall quality of dick pics in the world, which he likes. He's all for people following their passion, even if their passion is, for some reason, telling guys how to take better pictures of their penises.

It's because he's drunk, he tells himself, that he puts in a submission. Not because he has a great dick--which he does, obviously--and wants to show it off. Just because he's had a few beers and it seems like a good idea. Just to see how he does.

His picture goes up three days later, and the blog is not particularly kind to him.

_Okay, so, there's some good stuff going on here. Hands are always good, and you're using yours well here, like you're about to jerk off. Very nice. Unfortunately, you had the flash on on the camera, which fucked up the lighting really badly, and while I like a stark background, this one isn't working for me. No offense to wherever you are in this, but it looks kind of like an abandoned warehouse, and that gives off a vibe you don't want. Also, I can see some of your arm that's taking the picture, which feels like a petty thing to criticize, but anything you can do to make it less obvious you're taking a selfie is good, artistically speaking._

_Not the worst effort, but nothing to write home about. **C-**_

Bellamy stares at his computer for a few minutes, and then scrolls back up to the dick pic. None of the criticism is unfounded, honestly. He didn't remember using the flash, but it kind of washed him out, and his apartment does, from that angle, look a little sketchy. He didn't deserve a good grade, but--he really _wanted_ one.

He shuts his laptop and tries not to think about it. It's not like he _cares_ about this. He's never going to send anyone a dick pic. Despite what Raven says, he's pretty sure he can get laid without sexting. He's been getting laid without sexting for years, and he doesn't see why that would stop. Plus, his dick is _great_. He's never had anyone complain about it. All he's ever gotten are compliments. 

Except that this dick-pic critic gave him a _C-_. And he probably deserved it.

After roughly five minutes of being aggressively not bothered by the review, he opens his laptop up again and goes back to reread the entire site.

He's going to take the best dick pic ever.

First, he reads the entire blog archive, with special focus on the A reviews. Although it's kind of a blow to the part of his ego that's always been proud of his own size, he has to admit that he likes how little the blogger focuses on actual dick characteristics; she never comments on size or shape or other quirks, and only ever talks about technique. Which means he can't just assume he'll get a good score just for having a nice dick. He needs to really, really work on his presentation.

He sends his second attempt only six hours after his first was posted, and belatedly wonders if he should have waited. It's not desperate and weird if he's sending solicited pictures to a dedicated blog, right? He's not trying to pick anyone up or hitting on someone who's not interested.

He still calls Miller so they can get drunk after, though. Just because--well, he needs a fucking drink.

"Do you ever send dick pics?" he asks Miller, on the third drink.

"Did you want one?" Miller asks, unfazed. "Haven't really done it much, but I'm always willing to put in the extra effort for you, you know that. Just buy me another drink and I'll go into the bathroom."

"Dude, you can't just take a dick pic in a _bathroom_ ," Bellamy says, horrified. "That's so gross. What kind of vibe are you giving off in a fucking bar bathroom? The lighting's a disaster, and you aren't going to have enough room to get a good angle with your phone." Miller stares at him, and Bellamy feels himself flush. "What?"

"Are you actually giving me tips on how to take a better picture of my penis for you?"

"Just saying, if you ever want to send Monty a dick pic, put some effort in. Think about your presentation. Just because you guys are dating doesn't mean you should just phone it in."

Miller picks up Bellamy's beer and sniffs it. "Did you roofie yourself? Is that what's happening?"

"Forget I said anything."

"If you want dick pics--"

"I'm just interested in them as a cultural phenomenon. I don't get the impulse to send someone a bunch of pictures of your penis," he says, and then immediately realizes it's a lie, because he is currently sending someone pictures of his penis and isn't planning to stop until he gets an A.

But it's different. It's not like he's trying to pick up the dick critic. But he hasn't gotten a C on anything since he started caring about grades sophomore year of high school, and he's not going to let this stand.

"Well, I've never done it," Miller says. "But now I might. Just to freak you out."

Bellamy clinks their glasses together. "You're a good friend."

He gets a response to his dick pic two days later, via email, with a note at the beginning that says, _I try not to post the same dick more than once a week. If you continue sending pictures, don't expect to see them on the blog_.

This one gets a B, because his background was too busy and his lighting is still off. He doesn't even try to convince himself he doesn't care, just goes online to see about buying a camera with a decent timer and a stand.

*

He sends four more pictures, which all get B-range grades, and at the end of her critique of the last, the blogger adds, _Okay, personal question time: what exactly is your goal with these? I can tell you're trying to perfect your game, and that's cool, but I could probably be more helpful if I knew some details. Are you mass-sending these to get dates? Trying to do something nice for your significant other? Let me know, I'll give you some more personalized feedback._

It's an understandable and even considerate question, and Bellamy's honestly grateful to her for trying to help him. Or maybe she's just really tired of looking at his penis. Either way, it's the kind of question he's not sure how to answer, because the honest answer is _I am an over-competitive asshole and I refuse to give up on this until you give me an A on one of these_ , and even if he wanted to admit that, he couldn't, because once you say that, all future grades are suspect.

So, instead, he says, _My friend linked your blog because her new boyfriend sucks at sexting and she wanted him to up his game. She seems convinced that taking sexy pictures of yourself is a vital part of modern courtship, so I figure I should work on it too._

She responds a lot more quickly when he hasn't sent a picture, and he realizes with an uncomfortable lurch that she probably really _is_ tired of his dick, specifically. He was kind of having fun, but her reaction is probably _fuck, this guy again_. He's never going to get an A. This is probably the end.

_Okay_ , she writes. _That's cool, that makes sense. Here are Clarke's general tips for successful dick pics:_

_1\. NEVER SEND UNSOLICITED DICK PICS. You don't have to text_ want to see my penis _in those exact words but don't just start spamming strangers with pictures of your penis. I cannot say this enough._  
2\. Think about your audience. You're good at this part, but for the future. I'm your current audience, and it's clear you're taking my preferences into account. It's easier with someone you're dating.  
3\. Don't just skate on the inherent appeal of your dick. Obviously you've got a nice one and you know it, but it's not actually that interesting to just look at pictures of nice penises. It get sold. Trust me.  
4\. Your hands are great, just always have your hands in these.  
5\. Have more fun! That's really what you're missing, and it makes sense, if you're doing this as a theoretical exercise. It's easier with a specific partner in mind, I think. The best dick pics are ones you take because you like someone and want to do something sexy for them.  
6\. NEVER SEND UNSOLICITED DICK PICS.

_Hope this helps! Best of luck with future sexting :)_

It's not totally discouraging, honestly. It doesn't even make him feel like he's never allowed to send her pictures again. He just needs to meet a girl who inspires him to take fun, sexy pictures of himself, and then he needs to send one to a stranger on the internet, just to prove that he can take a nice picture of his penis.

Definitely a solid plan. He's going to get that A.

He even sees a promising girl talking to Raven and her new boyfriend the next night. He hasn't actually met Wells yet--all he knows is he's rich, successful, bad at sexting, and Raven is pretending she's not totally gone on him because she's kind of emotionally repressed--and Raven figured she should bring Bellamy and Wells could bring his best friend and they'd all get drunk and work out all their awkwardness.

Wells' best friend is apparently cute, so that's cool.

Raven grins when she spots him and waves him over. "Hey! Wells, Clarke, this is my friend Bellamy. Bellamy, this is Wells and Clarke. Funny story, you remember that website I sent you about dick pics?"

Bellamy does not flush. "Yeah."

"It turns out Clarke runs it."

He doesn't flush at that either, mostly because _flush_ is not a strong enough word for what he's doing. He's pretty sure all the blood in his body rushes to his face. There is none left to keep him alive. That's how hard he's blushing.

Somehow, Raven doesn't notice. "I can't believe you didn't tell me as soon as I sent you the stupid thing!" she's telling Wells.

"I thought it was funny!" Wells says, grinning. "Besides, I wanted to wait so Clarke could introduce herself in person."

"And she's not ashamed that her own best friend is so bad at taking pictures of his dick?"

"I never sent you any! I think it's weird! You just _assume_ I'm bad at dick pics."

Clarke is still looking at Bellamy, considering him carefully. She's _really_ cute, the same height as Raven, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and she obviously knows exactly who he is. Not that his face has been in any of the pictures, but he used his regular email address to send them, so she knows his name is Bellamy, and she knows his friend sent him her website because her boyfriend was bad at sexting. It wouldn't be hard to figure out, even if he wasn't bright red.

"Anyway, yeah," Raven says, hooking her arm around Bellamy's neck. "This is my dumbass best friend. Next round is on me. What do you drink, Clarke?"

"Oh, um," she says, coloring a little herself as she tears her attention away from Bellamy. Her voice is a little huskier than he expected, and she bites her lip in an incredibly distracting way. Why is she _hot_? "Wachusett blueberry ale?"

"Sure. Sam Adams seasonal, Bellamy?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"I'll come with you," says Wells. "You only have two hands."

"Yeah, but I believe in myself," says Raven, but she doesn't object, and just like that, Bellamy and Clarke are alone.

"Hi," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hi."

"So--you're Wells' best friend."

"Yeah."

"And I'm Bellamy Blake."

"Yeah."

He nods and offers her a sheepish smile. "So, this is awkward."

Clarke laughs. "Just a little. I had no idea, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, I'm the one who's been sending you naked pictures for weeks." He frowns. "Does this, uh, happen often?"

"Yeah, no, this is definitely the first time for this situation."

"But, uh--you've never met anyone else who's submitted a picture?"

"It's kind of hard to tell most of the time. It's not like I get faces, and most names aren't as unique as Bellamy Blake. A couple times I've gotten pictures from guys on Tinder that were already submitted to my blog, which is fine if I gave them a good rating, but I'm always kind of offended if it was a D or F."

"Not C?" he can't help asking.

She shrugs, apparently not making the connection. "That's average. I can understand if guys think it's good enough."

"How do you get started doing something like that?" he asks. It feels like a pretty safe thing to be discussing when Raven and Wells get back.

"I just got so many terrible dick pics on Tinder, it was unreal. So I was like, I'm going to make a blog I can link people to tell them not to send these. And then people started emailing me asking if I'd rate their pictures, and it's kind of fun. I get a lot of boring, shitty pictures, but some people take it as a challenge to do neat stuff."

"Huh," he says, keeping his voice even with effort. "I guess that makes sense."

Despite his very cool exterior, Clarke grins and nudges her foot against his under the table. "Yeah, apparently some people get defensive about their dick-pic scores. Which I'm sure is news to you."

"Yeah, who does that?" he says, and her grin widens.

Raven and Wells come back before she can say anything else, and Bellamy shifts the conversation to Wells, since he's Raven's new boyfriend and she clearly wants him to stick around, so Bellamy can be friendly. And it's good. Wells is a nice guy, sweeter than Raven usually goes for, but with enough of an edge to his sense of humor to keep up with her. Raven softens around him a little, and it's awesome. She's even calling him her boyfriend, which is a lot, for Raven.

He's honestly very happy for her, but he can't quite keep his focus off Clarke. She's like he would have expected, from her emails, smart, sarcastic, and straightforward, but also gorgeous with a nice laugh and a low-cut top that is not good for his mental health.

And he keeps catching her eyes lingering on his hand on the neck of his beer bottle, which makes heat pool low in his stomach, because she _likes_ his hands. And his dick.

When they're ready to go, Wells and Raven get a cab, but Bellamy says he'll take the train. "It's like two stops."

"Yeah, I'm doing the train too," Clarke says. "I don't want to watch you guys making out in the back of a taxi."

"You totally do," Wells says. "We're very hot when we make out."

"Pass," says Clarke, and hugs him. "We're going to see each other more now that you finally introduced me to your girlfriend, right? We can hang out as a group again."

"Yeah, yeah," says Wells. "Nice to meet you, Bellamy."

"Yeah, you too, man." He gives Raven a hug, mostly because he feels left out, and then waves over his shoulder, following Clarke to the train station.

"Which way are you going?" she asks.

"Inbound." He wets his lips, figures he might as well go for it. It's already awkward, he might as well get all the awkwardness out of the way now. "Is there a good way for me to hit on you at this point? Or have I sent you too many pictures of my dick?"

Clarke laughs. "I thought it was kind of cute."

"My dick?" he asks.

"No, your--you were trying so hard, it was adorable." She bites her lip. "You had at least two pictures that deserved A's in there, by the way. I just wanted to mess with you. Then I felt bad, like--what if you were trying to pose for a birthday picture for your girlfriend or something? That's why I asked what you were hoping to get out of it."

"Yeah, I really just wanted you to tell me I take good dick pics. You insulted my honor."

"That was my first guess, yeah. Plenty of guys get offended at bad grades, but usually they just send me profanity-filled emails about how I'm a lesbo bitch who needs a good dicking. Which is just offensive, given I'm a bisexual bitch who enjoys a good dicking but doesn't _need_ it."

"I promise I'll never make that mistake."

"Hey, your reaction to a bad grade was to take better pictures. That's what I want to happen. That's why I do the blog." She bites her lip, which is a nervous habit of hers that's going to kill him, if she doesn't want to sleep with him. "Plus, you're really hot."

"So, I can hit on you."

"As long as you're not sending naked pictures to any other blogs for critique," she says, grinning, and he grins back.

"Oh yeah, don't worry. You're the only dick-pic blog for me."

"Then, yes," Clarke says. "Feel free to hit on me as much as you want."

"Well then, not to brag, but I have it on good authority that in a lot of lights, my apartment looks like an abandoned warehouse. Want to check it out?"

Her laugh is sudden and bright, and Bellamy is grateful that they're getting through this awkwardness now so he can focus on winning her over. That's his new top priority, replacing getting her to give him an A on a dick pic.

He is willing to admit he has some weird priorities.

"I would love to check it out," Clarke says. "I can give you lighting tips."

He wishes it was more of a lie when he says, "Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking."

*

The next time Bellamy's picture shows up on Clarke's blog, it gets an A.

"I think you're showing bias here," he says, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You took the picture so it gets an A. I'm finding the corruption in the system."

Clarke cranes her neck around to kiss him. "I'm posting it as an example. So everyone else can see what the best dick pic ever looks like."

Bellamy has to admit, it _is_ pretty great, him stretched out on her bed, one hand wrapped around himself, the other gripping the sheets, like he's in the throes of passion. And, to be fair, he did end up jerking off while Clarke watched after she took the picture, so it's basically accurate.

"The best ever, huh?"

"I'm a professional, Bellamy. I'm totally unbiased. I'm saying that as an objective blogger who doesn't--"

He scoops her up and deposits her on his bed.

"You think I'm hot and you love my dick," he says, smug.

"I never said I didn't. But the photographer does half the work on a good dick pic, and you're a shitty photographer."

"And you're an artist."

She tugs him on top of herself for a long, deep kiss, and he presses her into the bed. He's never going to get tired of kissing Clarke. "I am an artist," she agrees, and it takes him a minute to remember what they were talking about. "So you'd better stick with me. To make sure you get the highest-quality dick pics you can."

He snorts and kisses her again. "The number-one thing I'm looking for out of a relationship. Someone who can take sexy pictures of me naked."

"So you're all set," she says, tugging his shirt over his head. "You've got it."

He leans in for another long kiss. "Yeah, I've got it."


End file.
